Runaway
by deltakat
Summary: The last time he saw Eames, they were running.


Disclaimer; I don't own _Inception_.  
Thanks to Haley for giving me a hand.

Runaway

Arthur dreams of running.

There are no people, no animals, no obstacles. Just the endless circle of a dirt track and the sound of feet pounding against the earth. There are no rooms, no dreams-within-dreams, no extraction, no research, no feeling.

There is no Ariadne. No Cobb.

No Eames.

No Arthur.

There's nothing but the wind and the dust and the sweat, and the faint sounds of music.

* * *

Their last job, and Eames laughs when Arthur tells him about his dreams.

"I can think of better ways to spend a night, darling," he says, and the implications send shivers down Arthur's spine. For a moment, he considers kissing the forger, just to see what it's like. Then Eames turns back to the mirror, back to his next forgery, and the moment passes.

"Get to work, Mr Eames," Arthur snaps, and Eames' blonde female winks and blows him a kiss as she heads for the door.

* * *

Cobb and Ariadne are worried, he can tell. They try to speak with him, to convince him to talk to them. But they don't understand that he's fine, really. As long as he can work, he can keep moving. He loses himself in it, loses himself in the research and the planning, and it's almost as good as running. As long as he works, he doesn't have to think, or feel, or remember.

And when he can't keep working any longer, he runs.

* * *

"Would you like some company?"

Arthur doesn't look around, doesn't bother replying, but Eames doesn't wait for one, falling in beside him like he belongs there. Maybe he does. Maybe Arthur just never noticed before.

They run without speaking, their harsh breathing and loud steps melting into a desperate kind of music as they make their way around the track once, twice, a third time. Eventually he loses track of how many laps they do, letting himself be lost in the rhythmic pounding of his feet on earth. He stops only when he can't run anymore, collapsing halfway around his track. Eames drops down beside him, dirt smeared across his white suit pants. Arthur wonders vaguely why anyone would wear a suit to run, and why Eames is here in the first place, but he is grateful for the company, and says nothing, gulping down air like a drowning man.

* * *

Yusuf shows up at the warehouse early one morning, and Arthur greets him with a silent nod as he goes about his work. He's there to see Cobb; that's the only reason he stops by anymore. He doesn't go into the field with them anymore. Arthur can't blame him. If he didn't love it so much, he would have quit this job a long time ago.

Ariadne tries to talk to him again, soft and kind, like she's talking to an injured animal. Maybe she is. Arthur has given up trying to keep track of reality.

"Arthur," she tries to get his attention, and he ignores her. He knows what she wants to talk about, and he knows he doesn't want to talk to her. But she can tell he's listening, she can always tell.

"Arthur," she says again, "you can't keep doing this."

He doesn't say anything, doesn't ask what she's talking about. He tries to scan through the article before him, but she places one hand over the page and uses the other to force him to look at her. She has tears in her eyes, and he almost feels guilty about it.

"Please, Arthur." She's begging him now, and he wonders how it got to this point. "You need a break. You can't keep working like nothing's happened."

He forces a smile. "I'm fine, Ariadne," he says, but he doesn't look her in the eye. They both know he's lying, and they both know that nothing she says will change his mind.

"Cobb agrees with me," she says, as if that makes her right. "Just two weeks, Arthur. Get a drink. Go on a date. Get away from all this, just for a while. Please."

He pulls his face from her hand and pushes his seat back, taking the paper from under her hand as he stands. "I'm fine," he says again, and begins to walk away. He hears her climb to her feet behind him, but he doesn't look back, and he doesn't slow.

"Do you really think Eames wants you to do this to yourself?" she calls after him, and he stops. He turns back toward her, and when he speaks again his voice is ice cold and sharp as a knife.

"Eames doesn't want anything anymore," he says. "Don't waste our time imagining he does."

The he turns and leaves, and pretends he doesn't notice that she's crying.

* * *

Cobb tries next. He tries to say he understands, that he wants to help. But he doesn't. He can't understand, because Arthur is _fine_, as long as he doesn't think. As long as he doesn't remember.

Cobb can't understand because he has his children. He has his family, and he has memories. Arthur doesn't even have that.

So he runs.

* * *

The last time Arthur sees Eames alive, they're running.

He is a constant presence in Arthur's dreams now, always right beside him, running. Sometimes they talk, but never about anything important. The weather, their last job, their next job. Eames is always gone by the time Arthur wakes up, leaving no evidence of his visit but a poker chip and a half-drunk cup of coffee.

But this is different. There's something different about this dream, something that echoes in the back of Arthur's mind like a dull thud. But he brushes it off, and they run, run like they always do.

After half an hour, Arthur realizes his world is ending.

Eames has fallen back, and is leaning against the fence, watching him. Arthur slows to a stop and looks at him, confused.

"You okay?" he calls, but he can't hear Eames' reply.

His hands feel sticky, warm. He can smell copper.

"Eames?" he tries again, moves closer. He tries to ignore the creeping fear that's working it's way into his mind. "What's wrong?"

But Eames is gone.


End file.
